Perception & Deception
by DJ Shifty
Summary: Two players. Two Sides. One is Light. The other, is Dark.  The line between good and evil has never been so blurred. Rater M for violence, gore, swearing, sexual references, etc. Any OCs submitted from her eon in will be downgraded to Redshirt status.
1. Prologue

I told you I'd be seeing you sooner than you thought.

Well, this story won the poll, so I'll be working on it as a side project to Bloody Vengence. It may seem a little slow in the first few chapters, but I promise you things'll speed up soon.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, people of therefore undecided genders, I give you the first chapter of Perception & Deception. Got your popcorn ready?

* * *

They came at about two o'clock silently and without warning.

Fernando Henderfeild, alias Flippy, had just finished work early, due to some sort of holiday. In the years after the war, Flippy found it hard to keep steady work (thanks in part to Evil) but had now secured a temporary job as a desk accountant. Crunching numbers all day wasn't exactly his dream job, but hey. It put food on the table. He had said his bye byes to his coworkers and that hot receptionist chick who once brought him a cake, although if he knew at that moment that it was probably the last time he'd see them, he'd have a more heartfelt goodbye, and several kicks to the shin at his douchebag supervisor.

But I digress.

Flippy had been distracted by trying to find his keys amongst the rubbish in his front left pants pocket, when a voice spoke up from behind him. "Excuse me, Flippy?"

Flippy immediately spun around, keys in hand, and quickly saw that he was surrounded by three men in suits, each one taller and probably outweighed him. _I can take them._ Evil's voice from inside his head offered, but Flippy ignored him. "Who are you and what do you want?" He instead asked.

"We're here on behalf of a very important person, who wishes to have a brief talk with you." The middle suit said. Flippy pegged him to be the leader of this patrol group.

"Who?"

"That's classified information."

_Figures._

"Mr. Flippy," The left suit spoke now. "We have very little time, and our employer wants to speak with you as soon as possible."

Flippy thought for a moment. "Well, if your 'employer' wishes to speak with me that badly, then they can meet me themselves."

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Mr. Flippy." This time it was the one on the right. "Our employer is a very busy man."

"Please, come with us. This is a matter of national security." Middle said, while Lefty and Righty nodded encouragingly.

_National security? Jesus fuck. Ask for some I.D._

"You got any I.D?" Flippy had to admit, whereas his wartime sense may be slightly out of touch, it was Evil's instincts that had saved his life many times. As if expecting this question, which they probably were, all three suits whipped out a photo ID from their front pockets. Flippy didn't have time to read the names before the cards went sent back to their pockets, but he did see them long enough to tell that they were legit.

"Time is of essence, Mr. Flippy." Lefty said.

"Does this have anything to do with my wartime life?" _Or me?_

"If you follow us, our employer will answer any questions you may have."

_I could take them all down, you know. Snap Lefty's neck before Middle and Righty know what's going on._

Flippy pretended he didn't hear that last part. "Alright. Should I follow you in my car or are you going to be driving me?"

* * *

Flippy sat in the back seat, next to Middle, while Righty was doing the driving and Lefty was in the front passenger seat. None made any motion to talk. The radio was silent. Middle was sitting is a position so that Flippy could just see the handle of, he guessed, a Glock.47 pistol in his shoulder holster. Whether this was intentional, so as to intimidate Flippy, or accidental, he didn't know.

And frankly, didn't care. It took more than the sight of a gun to flip Flippy out, although whether these agents knew of Evil's existence inside Flippy's head was still unclear.

Lefty surprised Flippy by tossing a newspaper over the seat to him. "Have you read the news recently, Mr. Flippy?" He asked, the first thing anyone had said since getting in the car.

"Can't say that I have."

"Look on page three."

"Is it a new Garfeild comic?"

"Just look, Mr. Flippy."

Flippy shrugged, and turned the page over to three. "The shampoo ad?"

"Below that."

"The Nobel prize nominees?"

"Above that."

… _Delightful._ Flippy was hoping it wasn't this story.

**DOZENS FOUND DEAD IN LOCAL RESEARCH CENTER!**

_At least 48 scientists, working and researching on behalf of the government, have been found dead in a well-renowned research center in California. The alarm was not raised until 3:pm, when a government agent look a look inside and saw all the slain bodies. Forensics estimate the victims had been dead for at least five hours before their discovery. All victims were either shot, stabbed, bludgeoned, tortured, suffocated, dismembered, or beaten to death, in almost any way. All data and information have been stolen, and what was left was partially destroyed by fire. Officers are asking anyone who might know anything about this to speak up._

Flippy tossed the newspaper to the floor and put a hand to his head. "Who would do something like that?"

"Some very bad people, Mr. Flippy."

The car stopped outside a warehouse, looking dark, dank, and run down, but the wartime instincts in Flippy was making a somewhat decent comeback, and those instincts (along with Evil's advice) that said this building was not what it seemed.

Righty parked the car near the front door, and all three suits exited the car. Flippy paused, and after a moment's hesitation, followed. He looked around the outside building, noting all the surveillance cameras and the amount of guards patrolling. Evil was already devising several escape plans, all of which included the unnecessary slaughter of, well, everyone.

"Right this way, Mr. Flippy." Middle said, having unlocked the door while Flippy was observing. Flippy was lead down a long, dark hallway, with Middle leading, Righty flanking his left, and Lefty flanking his right.

"What is this place?" Flippy asked, and immediately got a 'That's classified' from Lefty and Righty simultaneously.

Middle stopped at a door which looked like exactly like any other. He knocked twice, and pushed the door open. Lefty & Righty halted at the doorway and signaled for Flippy to enter. Flippy hesitated, but did so.

Inside the room was a desk, and about four chairs, one on each side. On the table was a tray of assorted biscuits, and a figure sat in the chair farthest away, his face masked in the shadows.

"Why am I here?" Flippy asked, trying to see into the darkness.

"You're here because at the moment, you're one of the people who I need." A familiar voice said.

"… Do I know you?"

"In a manner of speaking." The figure sat forward, revealing a familiar sight, a pinkish-purple mole with a turtleneck and dark-tinted glasses. "Hello, Flippy."

"Hello Mole." Flippy saluted, and Mole returned the salute with laziness. "I wondered why you sounded so familiar. It's been quite a while, hasn't it?"

"Indeed it has. It seems like only last week we were fighting the Vietman." A hint of a frown crossed Mole's face, but disappeared almost immediately after. Mole was still haunted by the memories by the war, but in a completely different way. Whereas Flippy returned from the war with his 'Evil' side unearthed, Mole had returned completely blind. A stray mortar bomb, he recalled. Eyes completely ripped to shreds by shrapnel. Otherwise uninjured, but Mole would never see again.

"So, uh, what's all this about national security and slaughters and whatnot?" Flippy asked, taking an Oreo from the tray of biscuits and twisting it apart in the traditional way.

"It's a long story. You might wanna take a seat." Mole instructed. Flippy shrugged, but did so.

"After I was… Discharged from fighting at the frontlines, I tried to find ways to help my country despite my injury. Using my other senses, I quickly became a master at traditional spying. Sadly, I'm getting old in age, and my hearings not what it used to be. I've still got my instincts, though. Those instincts have saved more that a lot of lives. These instincts, along with several notable reports, indicate that, to put it bluntly, we're about to go neck deep in shit."

"How so?"

"I trust you've read the paper report? The one about the slaughtered scientists?"

"Yeah?"

"Every single person, brutally slaughtered. Every scrap of Intel, stolen. If that information fell into the wrong hands, then to put it lightly, we're fucked."

"You always had a wonderful way with words. So then what kind of terrorist organization did this? Al-Qaeda? Religious extravagantists? A mad scientist?"

"I don't know. No-one's owned up to it. The point is, unless we take action, Flippy, a war will be coming. A war we'll be powerless to stop. We need you, Flippy. Your country needs you."

"May I ask why?"

"You're the greatest military mind since, say, Napoleon, or General Custer. I need your expertise to stop this war before it begins. Please, Flippy. From one veteran to another. No, from one friend to another. Will you help me? Help America?"

Flippy leaned back, considering his options. Could he really go back to being an accountant after today? After what he's heard? He doubted it. Mole probably had a guard ready to shoot him in the back if he said no.

"When do I start?" Flippy asked, and inside his head Evil cheered.

A smile spread across Mole's face. "I thought you'd say something like that. Follow the man who brought you in, he'll show you who you'll be working with."

* * *

Note that just because there's a line between the good side and the bad side, doesn't mean it'll be completely black and white. The good guys may do things that may be considered bad, and vicea versa for the bad guys.

Here's the stuffs you'll need to include if you're submitting your OC.

Name: (Obviously.)

Gender: (That is, if you know.)

Species: (Dog, Cat, Raccoon, Bunny, anything. Just be specific.)

Appearance: (This includes color of the fur/skin, clothes, any accessories or scars or markings or whatnot.)

Personality: (This one's actually self explanatory. If you really need an explanation, I'm going to punch you in the throat and THEN tell you. I hope you'll be paying attention.)

Basic bio: (A short version of their life. If possible, highlight their origin story if you've written it. Note this is not necessary, it's optional.)

Alignment: (Good or Evil, if possible on a scale from 1 – 10, 1 being 'Goody-Two-Shoes' and 10 being 'Satan is my bitch.')

Any other relevant information: (Anything else you think I'll need to know, like if they've got PTSD or is a superhero or whatever else you think matters. If it don't fit into any of the other categories, put it here.)

Weapon of choice: (Remington shotgun, Katana, Desert Eagle, your bare hands, whatever.)

Specialty: (Sniper, rifleman, pilot, medic, Intel, etc.)

Friends:

Rivals:

Love Interests:

So, yeah. Whether you want to submit an OC, give me your opinion on the story thus far, or want to tell me a great brand of shampoo (please don't) just click on the review button below.

DJ Shifty over & out.


	2. Intro, Part One

Well, I am feeling as good as it gets, if not better, so here be an update!

Special thanks to: **Sum 141, Hankforthewin, Ragerthewarvet, Punkangel208394, Schadinn, Razzles, LouveAsha, Arrow363, Deadliving, Lacheetara, Bladion13, Kigakari, Boulder The Dragon, TOSTRwafflz, Addicting Candy, Evil13Angel, **and a bunch of others whose name I can't remember at the moment.

Yeah.

* * *

"So… How many have you got on this… team of ours thus far?" Flippy asked as Mole led him through another hallway.

"At the moment? Roughly around twenty, give or take." Mole replied, and pushed through two large double doors, revealing a lunch room of some sorts. "Flippy, I'd like you to meet the team."

"Uh… Mole? There's no-one here." Flippy pointed out, and indeed the room was empty.

"Really? Damnit." Mole pressed on his earpiece, which Flippy failed to notice before, and spoke rapidly into it. "Mime, where is everyone? ... Answer me, damnit! ... I know you're there, I can hear you breathing! ... Godamnit." Mole switched to a different channel, having grown frustrated with Mime's… Mimeness. "Pike, you there?"

"Yep." The voice of Pike flowed through the earpiece.

"Why isn't Mime responding?" Mole demanded, and Pike fell silent for quite a while.

"… He's a mime, sir." Pike replied after a long pause.

"… Ah. Right, well… Where is everyone?"

"Hold up, let me check." There was the sound of rustling papers as Pike was evidently looking through some files. "Ah, got it. According to the schedule, most of the team is on one of your training exercises, but your spy team, or what's left of it, just got back-"

"Great." And Mole hung up on Pike. "Alright, Flippy. I'm unable to introduce you to all the team right now, but I can introduce you to one of the best spies I have."

"You people have spies? Jesus Christ."

"Jesus? No, his name is Charlie Graves."

* * *

"Is it bad? It's bad, isn't it? Oh god, call my next of kin!" A darkish-brown kangaroo, clad in dark clothing, thrashed around in his seat as a sky blue cat in medical attire inspected the gaping wound on said kangaroo's upper left arm.

"Charlie, calm down, it's just a flesh wound." Frost, the medic cat, pointed out, but instead of calming down Charlie Graves the kangaroo it seemed to have the opposite effect.

"Oh dear god, is it infected?" Charlie screeched, images of Leprosy and Malaria and various other diseases filling his head.

"No, silly. It's not infected." Frost answered, shaking her head at Charlie's paranoia.

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm a medic."

"… Oh yeah." Charlie sat back in the examining chair as Frost shifted through a drawer of medical instruments. Without warning the door burst open (enclicting a cry of 'THE CANADIANS ARE ATTACKING' by Charlie) and Mole strolled in, with Flippy in tow.

"Charlie, how'd the mission go?" Mole asked, concerned. Charlie exchanged a glance with Frost, and sighed.

"We lost Truffles." He said as he looked at his feet, noticing that he needed new ones. "Oh, and Steve." He added almost as an afterthought.

"What?" Mole roared in disbelief, and Charlie shrunk away from the blind man's glare.

"I don't know! We were scouting the co-ordinates you gave us, Truffles told me to stay put as he circled the perimeter, and next thing I know alarms are blaring and I'm being shot at! But the time I got to the rendezvous point, a bullet had clipped me on the arm and Steve was gone!"

"Okay… Okay…" Mole ran a hand over his head, as if caressing the hair he once had.

"We were careful." Charlie said, as Mole continued to rub his bald spot. "Me and Truffles were super careful, we checked for cameras, tripwire, everything! But they still found us. Sir, they knew we were coming."

"… Charlie, go rest yourself. Have a shower, some lunch, whatever."

"But there could be a mole- Traitor, there could be a traitor in our midst!" Charlie argued. "We have to double check everyone's files, double check the security, and-"

"Charlie, go rest. THAT IS AN ORDER." Mole ordered, stabbing the area around Charlie with his finger with each syllable.

"But Frost has to fix my arm first! I'll catch hyperthermia or over-exposure or something!"

"Alright, but afterwards you go rest. Got it?" Without waiting to see if Charlie had indeed 'got it' Mole turned on his heels and walked out the door.

"I'm Flippy, by the way." Flippy added, and he quickly shook the stunned Frost and Charlie's hands and followed Mole out the door.

* * *

Meanwhile, several miles away.

Pain reflectively pulled the trigger on his Dragonov sniper rifle and shot an innocent woman's head to pieces.

"Ooops." He muttered, as the cardboard cutout swayed, and fell backwards. The brown & black hyena, dressed in a blue hoody and military style pants, turned to his companion, and said "I'm fairly sure she was a drug dealer or something."

His companion, a gray and indigo coyote clad in a plain white t and black jeans, shook her head. "Good work, Pain. You have ridded the streets of cardboard drug dealers. With any luck you can progress to paper-Mache jaywalkers."

"Very funny, Iris. I'd like to see you have a go." Pain replied, and handed the rifle to Iris.

"What, no CAR-15s?" Iris grinned, and took aim.

Three shots and three perfect targets later, Iris handed the rifle back to Pain. "Call me when you have a real challenge."

* * *

Slick blocked an overhead blow, and struck out with his baton. Kurt deftly jumped over the swing and attempted a swinging roundhouse kick, but Slick ducked under and struck Kurt on the side of his leg with the baton. Kurt fell to the dirty ground, and kicked the baton out of Slick's hand, sending it careening in the direction of Lumpy, striking him on the forehead.

"Should we, like, stop them?" A grey wolf named Niki asked as she adjusted her spiky purple armband. Beside her, Midnight, a jet black panther with a black jacket over an army T & blue jeans, glanced over at the dueling Slick and Kurt and shrugged.

"Eh." She said offhandedly in her thick southern accent. "Let 'em finish their fight." And she went back to polishing her katana.

"Easy for you to say. You don't have to clean them up afterwards." Chimed in Maria, an albino-ish panther with bright neon green gloves & jacket.

"Hey guys!" A voice called over, effectively catching the attention of Niki, Midnight, Maria and the dueling Slick and Kurt. Sam, a purple & black fox, bounded over, radio in hand. "I just got off the radio with Pike and Sniffles. Apparently Mole wants us back at base… Oh, and Sniffles said he sounded pissed."

"Aw, damnit!" Mac, a black & white Mackenzie River Husky swore and slung his H&KG36C rifle on his shoulder. "I was just getting in the mood, too."

"Whatever. Where are the others?" Giggles asked, and Mac shrugged.

"Nutty and your boyfriend are still playing paintball…" As if on cue, Nutty suddenly shouted 'AH FUCK! CUDDLES YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! WE AGREED ON NO GROIN SHOTS!' and marched out from one of the structures, covered in paint and massaging his crotch. Cuddles followed shortly after, laughing his head off.

"Okay, that leaves Lifty. Where is he?" Giggles looked at the others for guidance, and Niki shrugged.

"I think he's waiting in the helicopter." She said, referring to one of the two transport helicopters that had brought the team here.

"Which one?" Sam asked. "You copter or mine?"

"Yours, I think. Hey, glad you could join us." Niki added as Kurt and Slick joined the group. "So who won?"

"Tie." Slick simply said. "Anyone seen my baton?"

"Over there." Midnight thumbed at the unconscious Lumpy, the baton lying next to him.

"I won." Kurt grinned as Slick walked off to retrieve his baton. "After he lost his baton he didn't hit me once."

"To be fair, you didn't hit him either. You spent a lot of your energy trying to hit him, but he just dodged every strike." Maria reasoned. "I think it is a tie."

"Eh. I can live with that."

"Race ya to the choppers." Niki suddenly challenged to a startled Sam.

"First one who powers up their chopper's the winner!" Sam retorted back with a grin, and the two shot off down the hill to the two waiting choppers.

"… You wanna go get Pain & Iris, Mac?" Midnight said. That was not a question. Mac shrugged, and started his way to the sniper's nest.

"What could they possibly be doing up there?" Kurt mischievously wondered aloud, a dirty grin on his dirty face.

Giggles promptly slapped him on the back of his head.

_

* * *

_

Easy… Easy… Wait to see if it's a threat before you blow it to-

**BANG.**

_Godamnit._

"Pain, I think that one was a-"

"Suicide bomber, I know."

"Hey, you two." Mac called from the doorway, and Pain indistinctively swung the rifle around. "WATCH WHERE YOU WAVE THAT THING!" Mac shouted, and quickly regained his composure as Pain slung the rifle on his shoulder. "A call just came in from base. Boss wants us back ASAP."

"ASAP as in As Soon As Possible, or ASAP as in Get Your Asses Back NOAW?" Iris asked as she gathered her stuff.

"The second one." Mac said, to immense disappointment.

_

* * *

_

We can be anything we want to be, with anyone we want to be with. I'm always here for you.

Read the inscription on the bottom of the photograph Lifty was holding at this very moment. Lifty put a cigarette to his lips, and inhaled deeply, careful not to get any ash on the photograph. His fingers trembled as he brushed some dirt off the corner of the photo, and with a sigh he looked out the side of the helicopter at the grassy hills and bright blue sky.

"Hey, no smoking in my copter!" Sam's voice wafted through as she quickly ran past, plucking the cigarette out of Lifty's hands and crushing it against the ground. "What's that?" She asked, reaching for the photograph. With a scowl, Lifty held the photo tightly to his chest.

"It's personal." He snarled.

"Alright, chill." Sam raised her hands in surrender. "You might wanna start buckling up, we're heading back to base." And Sam disappeared into the pilot's seat, leaving Lifty alone with his precious photograph. Lifty took a last look at his photo, a picture taken back in happier times, of him and a raccoon that looked nearly identical to him, save for the green fedora, and he tucked the photograph in his jacket pocket.

No less than five minutes later, with both helicopters whirring on full power, everyone has sorted out who'd be sitting where (Sam, Lifty, Kurt, Iris, Mac, Cuddles & Giggles on one whirlybird, Niki, Nutty, Lumpy, Slick, Pain, Maria & Midnight on the other) and the two helicopters lifted into the air, and started on course back to base.

* * *

This chapter, and the next, is just to introduce the main characters that will be appearing. Next chapter will focus on the Evil Side.

IMPORTANT NOTE: Any OCS submitted from here on in will be downgraded to Redshirt Status, and will make possibly one appearance before being killed. See: Steve. (See: Charlie Grave's story above)

If I got your OC wrong, please tell me. If I got your OC right, please hi-5 me. Review if you want to.

~ DJ.


	3. Intro, Part II

Alright, sorry for the long wait. I got real sick with a Cold/Hayfever combination, and found it hard to concentrate on my stories between bouts of sneezing my lungs out. But after an all-too-long wait, here's the latest installment of _Perception & Deception_. Enjoy. That is an order. /salute, marching fanfare.

* * *

Steve slowly came to in a dark dingy pit, blindfolded, gagged, and tied to a pole. The dull numbness that had struck when a tranquilizer had shot him while he was running had mostly dissipated, leaving only the slightest of tingles. Steve pricked his ears, listening for any movement from anywhere, as he tried to lower the panic in his system.

Silence. Complete and utter silence.

Steve twisted around, feeling the loose knot that tied his hands behind his back. He smiled inwardly at the shoddy workmanship put into the knot, and quickly untied himself. Hastily removing his blindfold and gag, he looked around in the semi-darkness, able to make out shapes here and there but not a lot.

Remembering the old trick he had been taught at the agency, he stood perfectly still while his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Steve counted downwards from ten, and with each passing number his vision became better, until he could see definite objects and his surroundings.

From what Steve could see, he was in a pit of some kind, with tunnels big enough for a large horse to walk through at full height spanning in all directions. The walls, and the floor for that matter, were dirt packed together to form a labyrinth, a maze, perhaps. Steve tilted his head upwards, looking above, but saw nothing but more and more dirt walls, climbing steadily upwards until there was a small pin of light right at the top. Various marks on the walls looked like some had tried to climb up the wall, towards the light, but evidently none got higher than a doorway. A large table, propped up against one of the walls, caught Steve's attention, and he approached it cautiously.

There was a note left lying on the table. Steve picked it up, squinting in the darkness, and began to read.

_Welcome to Kharv's Pit._

Kharv's Pit? Oh, no. Oh, no no no. Steve's panic arose as he looked around again. Now that his vision was much clearer, he could see the dark splotches of crimson blood staining the walls, floor, and even some on the ceiling in some of the passageways.

Oh, god no.

Steve's eyes went back to the note, reading as fast as he could.

_At the moment, you are standing in a 'safe zone.' These zones are indicated by the symbol above the table, meaning if you run into a room and see that symbol, you're safe. These zones have been arranged in an interest of fairness, in order to give you a running chance against Kharv._

Steve glanced up at the wall behind the table, squinting his eyes to make out the safe symbol. It looked like someone had place the letter O at the top of a plus sign. The, whatsitcalled… Key of Life, or something Egyptian thing. Symbolic assholes.

_There is an exit, yes. If you manage to get to the exit, then you'll be free to go. No questions asked. Where you go and what you do is up to you. If you fail, however… I think you can guess what'll happen. The rules can change at any given moment. Good luck._

And that was where the note ended.

* * *

Two days ago. 12:03am

The two armed guards guarding the backdoor of the 'secret' government complex paced back and forth, bored, tired, and subconsciously wishing for some action. It was the middle of the night, the moon a pale circle in the sky, the stars sparking, almost teasing the guards as time slowly crawled by.

"Man, this sucks." The bigger of the two, a man named Jack Johnson, exclaimed. "It's the middle of the bloody night! I should be sleeping, not guarding a nuthouse!"

"You do have a point." The smaller one, John Jackson, nodded his head. "But it's not a nuthouse, it's a-"

"Research facility, I know. But these idiots and their experiments!" Jack Johnson made a show of waving his arm at the complex. "You here their latest 'success'? A lion/rabbit Zombie hybrid! They call that thing a godamned success? I'd hate to see one of their failures!"

"They do more than create new-age Frankensteins, you know. Biological warfare, top 100 most wanted, anything that goes through here has 'TOP SECRET NATIONAL SERCURITY' stamped all over it."

"Whatever." Jack kicked a rock in a random direction, enjoying the sound of it clattering away. "I still don't get why we're here. This door's got deadlocks, number code, prime security measures that would make a hardened criminal reconsider." It was true. The large metal door was almost impenetrateable . Almost.

"Because in the event of a sudden power failure, all these security measures would become null and void. The cameras stop working, the code automatically deactivates, and basically we'd be about as secure as a deer blinded by headlights. It takes about five minutes for the auxiliary power to kick in, and a lot can happen in five minutes." John said, remembering this particular passage off by heart.

"Well, yeah, but who in their right mind would attack this place?"

Before John could reply, the sound of footsteps approaching silenced the conversation. Both guards immediately went for their Glock.47 pistols in their jackets, ready to whip it out and fire. The footstep became louder, as a figure stepped into the light emanating from atop the door. Jack relaxed his grip on his pistol, John however opted to keep one hand in his jacket as the slender grip of the gun reassured him.

"Well, hey there!" The figure exclaimed as the light illuminated her features. The figure in question was a badger/bear hybrid, wearing an oversized pea green jacket and a hammer of Thor necklace bouncing against her chest as she walked. "Could one of you give me a hand? My car seems to have just crapped itself and I don't know how to get it going again." To top it off, she added an award-winning smile.

All hope of Jack seeing through her ruse completely vanished with that smile. "Well, sure!" He grinned, taking a step forward. "I'll help you out."

"Hey!" John whispered to Jack, grabbing his arm as he did so. "Protocol, man! We need to stick together the whole time, an-"

"Fuck protocol, it'll only be five, ten minutes." Jack whispered back.

"A lot can happen in five minutes." John warned, and hesitantly released his grip on Jack's arm.

"Now, let's go see what the problem is." Jack smugly said as the badger/bear mix led him away into the night.

"So what's your name, honey?" Jack asked the badger/bear mix as she led him around the corner.

"They call me Blade." She cheerfully replied. Jack slowed down, the name ringing alarm bells in his head, but unable to register exactly why he had suddenly become so tense.

"Blade, huh? And what's wrong with your car?"

"Maybe a power failure." She grinned, and at that exact time there was a massive power cut throughout the city grid. Jack took a step back, blinded by the sudden darkness, but before he could yell he felt the cold steel of a knife sweep across his neck, and Jack Johnson had one fleeting moment of his blood spraying out of his slit throat before lapsing into unconsciousness.

Back at the door, John Jackson spun around, partially out of surprise and partially out of fear. He whipped his Glock.47 pistol out of his jacket, and before he could even get a shot off he himself was shot, symmetrical holes appearing on his chest. His body was flung backwards as blood flowed freely from the newly-made holes, crashing through the now un-secure door and hit the ground, dead.

Out of the darkness, about six figures approached out of the darkness, guns alert incase of any more guards. One of them, a jet-black jaguar equipped with hunting gear and an AK-47, looked at the body of John Jackson sprawled half-in and half-out of the doorway and gave it a light kick.

"Excellent shot, Scourge." He said in a light British accent as his eyes trailed over the large bloodstain on the door. "Points for style."

"It's what I do." Scourge, a grey puma wearing a long black coat, emblazoned with blue flames, nodded at the body, not trying to hide the pride in his voice as he blew on his still smoking Remington. "I'm just surprised Handy managed to break into the power grid right on cue."

"Hey, we're wasting time." Barked a huge Texan steed, clad in black tactical clothes and Kevlar body armor. Being both tall and muscular with a surly disposition, Longhorn was already intimidating enough. Add in the fact that he was carrying a deadly XM-26 automatic shotgun, complete with dragon breath shells, and it was enough to make a grown man wet himself. "A bit less than four minutes til auxiliary power kicks in."

"Right you are, Longhorn." The black jaguar noted, waving for the remaining three of the group over. "Lammy, Toothy, Blade! You guys ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Toothy, a purple beaver with, as his name suggested, large teeth, remarked whilst nervously tapping his SMG. Blade nodded enthusiastically, and Lammy, the somewhat schizophrenic lamb, whispered something to that pickle she carries around and nodded.

"Alrighty, then. Scourge, you still got that USB?"

Scourge tapped his pocket in affirmative.

"Download as much info as you can. Steal some diskettes and written files if you have to. Longhorn, Lammy, you two cover Scourge as he grabs the info. Blade, Toothy, you two are coming with me. We're going to save a Frankenstein freak. Keep in contact with Intel, be fast, and kill anyone who gets in your way."

With that note, the six mercenaries sprinted through the door, into the research facility.

* * *

"Four minutes remaining." A sea-green otter, clad in a sailor's uniform, noted the timer as it slowly count down. This sailor otter was known as Captain DRIPS, due to his many diseases relating to the DRIPS virus, though the only people who called him by his real name were certain, 'friends' on illegal internet sites. "Repeat, four minutes remaining."

"Heard you the first time, Drips." A scientist-garbed cat sourly replied, tapping feverishly away on a laptop as he did so. "Guys, heat and radio patterns say there's a group of soldiers in the next hallway." He spoke into his walkie talkie, addressing the teams inside the facility. "I advise you take a quiet and cautious approach, an-"

A volley of gunfire sounded from the radio, along with Longhorn shouting something along the lines of _"YEE-HAW! THAT'S THE WAY WE DO THINGS IN TEXAS!"_

"Yeah, or you could do that." The scientist cat, Jay, muttered under his breath.

"_Hey, Jay, Drips, you guys there?"_ A different voice, the light British one of the black jaguar, crackled through the radio, overriding Longhorns various shouts of pride. Before Jay could reply, Captain DRIPS snatched the receiver from him.

"Yes, sir, Zeke, sir!" He saluted.

"_There's a few more in here than we expected. Can you set up a sniper at the back exit and front entrance?"_

"Consider it done, sir!" Captain DRIPS said, then turned to Jay. "You heard the man. Grab a rifle and start covering the exits."

"Oh, I'm sorry, who died and left you in charge?" Jay irked, snatching the receiver back. "As I recall, I'm your superior, so I should be ordering YOU around. So how about you make yourself useful and grab a rifle? On second thoughts, don't. I'm almost afraid you'll miss completely and hit me."

"Fuck, I accidently shoot you ONE TIME and you won't let me near a gun. It was in the past, Jay. Quit living in the past."

"It was last week!"

"Again, quit living in the past."

"_Oi, Tweedledum and Tweedledumber!"_ Zeke's voice crackled from the radio again. _"Now is really not the time for this shit! Get Disco and Petunia to do sentry post if you both want to keep arguing like fucking six year olds! If one guy manages to escape and we get caught I will personally skin you both alive!"_

"Yes, sir." Jay irritably said. "Drips, can you go get Disco and Petunia?" He directed at Captain DRIPS, trying to sound civil. Drips nodded, and jogged away.

Captain DRIPS skidded on the dirt path, and poked his head in the back of one of the vans that brought the team here. "Hey, you guys! We need some snipers."

Disco Bear, as his name suggested, was a disco-obsessed bear, as much so that he moonwalked out of the van, toting a high-powered Winchester sniper rifle on his shoulder. "Looks like we'll have to continue this little date later, toots." He winked at Petunia, a blue skunk, who for her part rolled her eyes.

"Disco, go to the back exit. Snipe anyone who comes out through the doors." DRIPS said, and Disco nodded and ran off. "You too, Petunia. We need someone to cover the back exit."

"Why can't you?" Petunia asked as she stepped out of the van.

"Jay doesn't trust me with weapons."

"Well, you DID shoot him."

"It was an accident!" Drips argued, shaking his head. "Besides, that's not the point. The point is, someone needs to cover that back exit, and since Jay finds killing somewhat distasteful, you're going to have to do it."

"What about Shifty?" Petunia asked, and Drips fell silent.

"I forgot about him." He admitted. "How is he with a sniper?"

"Good enough if he's motivated."

"Then where is he?"

* * *

"Boom! Headshot!" Longhorn cried with triumph as another poor victim fell to his automatic shotgun. This victim, now missing most of its head, stumbled for a few seconds, before collapsing on the metal floor. "How's that downloading coming along, Scourge?"

"60% done!" Scourge replied, twirling his Remington shotgun on his finger as the info slowly downloaded. "Slowly but surely."

"Good." Longhorn cast another glance across the room. Dead bodies, most peppered with bullets, one or two reduced to mush via blunt force, spread across the room, their blood slowly spreading. "I think that's all."

"Hey, uh, Longhorn? Where's Lammy?" Scourge asked. Longhorn blinked, looked around, then repeated the process.

"Where the fuck'd she go?" He shouted, kicking one of the bodies either in anger, irritation, or for the hell of it.

"Probably off chasing a butterfly." Scourge offered.

As if on cue, the door closest to Longhorn smashed open. Longhorn spun and indistinctively fired, and the dead body of a special agent became deader as the force of the bullets flung him back through the doorway.

"Hey guys!" Lammy cheerfully said, as the agent's body landed at her feet. In the hallway behind her, dozens of slain bodies spanned the hallway, each more bloody than the last.

"Woah." Scourge spat, speechless for the most part.

"Chasing the butterflies, huh?" Longhorn grinned at Scourge.

"Whatever." Scourge approached the hallway, and peered in. "Jesus Christ, Lammy." Then he glanced at one of the closer bodies, lying back down on the floor. "Did you really have to do that to his face?"

"It wasn't me, it was Mr. Pickles." Lammy said, still grinning cheerfully.

"Rrrrrright." Scourge nodded.

Suddenly, one of the other doors to the room burst open, and three special agent charged in, each carrying a SIG saucer. "Freeze!" One of them shouted, before his chest was struck with three bullets, from Longhorn, Scourge and Lammy simultaneously. The two other agents opened fire, and the 'villians' took cover in the hallway.

"Guys, we've got to get that USB! It should be nearly done by now!" Scourge whispered, barely audible over the gunshots.

"And how do you propose we do that?" Longhorn asked, unable to return fire.

"You distract them." Scourge said, and without another word took off.

"Hey!" Longhorn shouted after him. "Godamnit. Lammy, you got any grenades?"

"Yeah."

"Then what the fuck are you waiting for? USE THEM!"

Lammy shrugged, and tossed a grenade into the main room. One of the agents shouted "GRENADE!" while the other shouted "TAKE COVER!" and the two ceased fire to duck under an upturned table.

Nothing happened.

"Did you pull the pin?" Longhorn asked.

"Hehe. Oops." Lammy sheepishly said. Longhorn rolled his eyes, and dived into the room, shotgun armed and ready.

"THERE'S ONE!" One of the agents shouted, aiming, shooting, and missing completely. Longhorn aimed his LMG, pulled the trigger, and didn't miss. The agent went down like a sack of potatoes, and the other agent opened fire, clipping Longhorn in the arm.

"FUCK!" Longhorn roared, and took cover behind another upturned table. The remaining agent's bullets fired at the table, but it was enough cover to protect Longhorn for now.

The door behind the remaining agent unexpectedly burst open, and the agent whipped around, ready to fire, but instead was suddenly struck with the hard grip of a thrown Remington shotgun, breaking his nose. Before the agent could even react, two hands grasped at his head and twisted it violently, snapping his neck like a twig.

"Alright, it's over, you can come out now." Scourge addressed as he retrieved his Remington. "I saved you and whatnot."

"You took your fucking time!" Longhorn spat, his free hand clenched on his wound.

"You're welcome." Scourge nodded, checking on the USB. "It's finished downloading. Alright, let's get the hell out of here."

"I second that opinion." Lammy spoke up. "Mr. Pickles got blood all over my hands." She said. Scourge and Longhorn exchanged glances, and opted not to say anything.

* * *

Although he was looking directly at a breathtaking sight, Shifty didn't see anything. His eyes had that glazed-out faraway look, the look that indicates that someone's deep in thought. So deep that the sound of oncoming footsteps did nothing to alter him.

"Shifty?" Petunia slowly asked, cautiously approaching the raccoon. "You there?"

No response. Petunia waved her hand in front of Shifty's face, in the process brushing against his fedora. That glazed look in his eyes faded, just a bit.

"Shifty?" Petunia asked again.

"Lifty?" Shifty murmured, his eyes coming in and out of focus.

"No, it's me, Petunia. Shifty, we need your help."

Shifty's eyes slowly returned to focus, and he glanced at Petunia offhandedly. "Oh, hey Petunia. What's up?"

"We need you to do a sentry post for the front entrance. Can you do that?"

Shifty scoffed. "Why would I do that?"

"Because, uh…"

"Just leave me be with my memories." Shifty said, staring off into the distance again.

"Look, I think, uh, these guys may be the ones responsible for… separating… you and your brother." Petunia stuttered, then flinched when Shifty sharply turned and glared at her. She hit the weak spot, all right.

"Where are the rifles?" Shifty asked, eyes brimming with rage.

* * *

"Guys, I don't mean to question orders, but why are we going to save some Frankenstein thing?" Toothy asked as he ducked underneath a counter.

"I dunno." Blade shrugged, also crouched down underneath a counter. "You'll have to ask boss." She added, ducking as another volley of gunfire spattered the surface of the counter.

"Let's concentrate on the matter at hand, shall we fellas?" Zeke said, coolly relenting a burst of gunfire from his AK47 at the band of agents. "In case you haven't noticed, there are guys on the other side of this room trying to kill us!"

"No we're not!" One of the agents shouted upon hearing Zeke's order. "We just want to shoot you until you stop moving!"

Zeke responded by pumping an entire clip into the wiseass agent.

"That was wasteful." Toothy dryly noted.

"Yeah, but it felt good." Zeke blissfully said as Blade finished off the final agent with a short burst of gunfire from her Tec9 submachine gun, rendering his face to something resembling wet playdough. "Nice work, babe."

"Blade."

"Same difference." Zeke shrugged. "Alright, c'mon. It should just be down the next hallway."

"You said that two hallways ago." Toothy pointed out. Zeke rolled his eyes in annoyance, and kicked the door to the next room open. This was the room they were looking for, alright. Spread across the room, were tables with papers, instruments, and computers. Taped up on the walls were several diagrams, one which included the x-ray of a lion and another the x-ray of a rabbit, whilst underneath both these was a third x-ray, which curiously showed the two merged together. And at the end of the room, sat a large metal door, padlocked. The door itself was rattling, shaking, as if something on the other side was trying to get in… or out.

"Toothy, get to work on that padlock." Zeke ordered, motioning over with his rifle.

"Are you insane?" Toothy cried, pointing at the shaking door. "That… that thing will kill us all!"

"No, it won't. Just go over there and unlock it. If it touches you I'll shoot it, okay?" Zeke unenthusiastically reassured Toothy, who still didn't look convinced.

"… Shoot it where?" Toothy slowly asked, cautious.

"Okay, new plan." Zeke cocked his rifle, having run out of patience. "Unlock that door or I'll personally throw you into Kharv's Pit."

Toothy gulped, then rushed over to the door. Trying to steady himself against the pounding door, he grabbed his lockpin out of his pocket and began the hard task of jimmying the lock open.

Which is why he was not-so-pleasantly surprised when the door unexpectedly burst open by itself.

A large, purple(ish) creature charged out. To say this thing was a thing of beauty would be a complete lie. Seemingly held together by the multiple stitches across its body, this thing did indeed look like it had been sewn together by the devil himself. (who isn't really known for his knitting.)

"YES! FREEDOM!" The… Thing shouted with a voice akin to glee, it's arms raised in a 'praise the lord' motion. Then it finally noticed Blade, Zeke and Toothy staring. "Who the fuck are you? You don't look like scientists."

"… Are you CrayZee?" Blade asked after a lengthy silence.

"Maybe." The thing, now identified as CrayZee, cast Blade and Zeke with a suspicious glare as it slowly took in the arrival of these new guests.

"Good enough." Blade lowered her gun, as did Zeke. "CrayZee, we're here to bust you out of here."

"… Why?"

"Because, uh… It's complicated. We don't have much time to explain." Blade said, conveniently avoiding the fact that she did not know exactly why they were busting out this crazy CrayZee. "You'll just have to trust us."

"What's his problem?" CrayZee asked, pointing at Toothy, who appeared to be having a panic attack.

"I wouldn't know." Zeke shrugged. "Though-"

"WHY IS THAT THING LOOKING AT ME?" Toothy screamed in a rather high-pitched scream. He fainted immediately after.

"Though I do have some ideas." Zeke continued, resting his rifle on his shoulder as Toothy whimpered in fear of CrayZee. "So, anyway. Wanna come with us?"

"Okay." CrayZee shrugged. "Lead the way."

Zeke blinked. "… That was easy." He noted.

"ON ONE CONDITION."

"Aw, fuck."

"Give me a place to stay, away from all these goddamn motherfucking shitbagging teatwirling cocknosed assfaced scientists." CrayZee requested, using more swear words and insults than necessary.

"… Okay. Let's go!" Blade proclaimed, waved her gun in the air, and led the group (now consisting of the insane CrayZee, the amused Zeke, and the terrified Toothy) out of the room.

* * *

"Yeah… Wow, for real? Okay, gotcha." Jay ended the radio call and turned to Petunia and DRIPS, looking quite please. "Just got off the radio with both teams. Both missions were successful, and they're on their way out now."

"Both missions successful?" Drips raised an eyebrow. "Must be our lucky day. Remind me to get some lottery tickets later."

"Someone go tell Disco to hold his fire. The last thing we need is some unfriendly fire." Jay glanced at Drips again, his grin fading just a little bit.

"You're never really going to forgive me for that, are you."

"Nope."

And so, no less than twelve seconds later, both teams exited out the front entrance, Disco Bear holding his fire as he watched them all walk through his line of fire.  
Blade, leading an impressed CrayZee away from its prison.  
Zeke, grinning madly with an unconscious Toothy slung over his shoulder. Exactly why he was grinning, no-one really wanted to ask.  
Scourge, spinning the USB stick around in the air as the moon reflected off the shiny vinyl surface.  
Lammy, hauling a wheelbarrow of written files with 'the help of Mr. Pickles.'  
And finally, Longhorn, covering the rear, his good arm clasped on his XM-26 shotgun.

"Success!" Scourge cried out as Jay, Drips, Disco, and Petunia joined the group. "Got it, you can thank me as much as you wish." He tossed the USB to Drips, who almost dropped it, but caught it at the last second.

"Got some more stuffs, too!" Lammy grunted as she hauled the wheelbarrow of info behind her. "Woo, heavy." She stated, halting and wiping the sweat off her forehead.

"Wow, you actually got it. Without anyone dying." Jay said, impressed. Behind him, Drips pointed subconsciously to the research facility, now devoid of life. "Uh…" Jay fell silent upon seeing CrayZee. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Who the fuck are you?" CrayZee responded.

"Probably." Zeke nodded. "Someone go grab the snipers, we're ready to leave."

* * *

So as most of the group began removing all traced of them being there, Petunia made her way through the dense bushes in the direction of the back exit sniper, Shifty. She pushed aside a large branch, grateful of the large boots she was wearing that kept the mud out.

"Shifty?" She called out. "You here?"

A loud shot rang out, and Petunia indistinctively ducked. "Easy, easy! It's me! It's Petunia!" She cried, and after a moment's hesitation Shifty lowered his sniper rifle so it wasn't pointed at the skunk.

"Shifty, we're packing up and leaving now." Petunia said as she slowly raised from the ground. "We've got what we need, and we're about to leave."

"But… I… Lifty-"

"Shifty…" Petunia sadly shook her head. "This is a bit hard to say, but you've got to move on. Let go. Lifty is gone, and nothing you do can ever change that."

"I'll never let go." Shifty defiantly said, looking like he was about to raise the rifle and shoot Petunia. "I'll find him, and we'll be together again. Just like old times."

"I'm not going to stop you from looking, but we've got to go. Are you going to come with us, or sit here with your rifle and wait for someone to arrest you?"

Muttering and mumbling, Shifty rectulantly stepped forward, brushing past Petunia, making his way back to the vans. Petunia sighed in relief, and followed.

'_Poor thing.'_ She thought. _'He still thinks his brother is alive.'_

* * *

Zeke tossed the final flaming Molotov into the building, taking a moment to watch the fire spread. His smirk became wider as the fire danced in front of him, the amber flames reflecting in his eyes.

"Hey, you gonna stand there and jack off onto the fire, or you leaving with us?" Longhorn called out, snapping Zeke from his trance.

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Let's go." Zeke said, shutting the door to the facility to keep the fire inside. "How's your arm? That wasn't your jacking off arm, was it?"

Longhorn scoffed. "It works fine, if that's what you're saying. Jay cleaned the wound, but he's more interested in the Frankenstein thing than normal bullet wounds."

"Who wouldn't be?" Zeke shrugged, and began walking back to the vans as the fire raged on inside the building. "All in all I'd say that was a pretty successful mission."

"Fuck yeah." Longhorn agreed.

* * *

Present day.

Steve ran, stumbling, blinded by panic at the discovery that he was trapped in a dungeon with what could be the Devil himself, Kharv. His heart pounding, he ran from room to room, desperately searching for the exit. He ran and ran, growing more and more fearful, until he tripped over a loose tree root and fell, sprawled, onto the dirt ground.

He was about to pick himself back up when he heard a distant growling.

Terrified, Steve looked around, eyes squinting in the darkness as he tried to deduce where the growling was coming from. At this point, it seemed to be coming from everywhere. Steve did, however, notice that he was in a room with a Key of Life marked on the wall, so he should be safe.

Steve froze as the growling halted. Silently praying, he slowly looked around again. A shadow dashed across one of the distant hallways, viewable for only a split second, before it disappeared.

The split second was enough to fill Steve with more fear than ever before.

Steve backed up, until he was up against the dirt wall. The Key of Life, etched in the dirt above him, seemed almost symbolic, and it's meaning wasn't lost on Steve.

The growling increased, this time most definitely coming from the left, and Steve snapped his head in that direction, his mouth immediately becoming an O of horror as he finally caught sight of the dreaded Kharv.

His bare feet made no sound as Kharv shambled towards the terrified Steve. Clad in only baggy camo pants, the bare grey chest of the creature starkly contrasted the red 666 necklace it wore. Though it wasn't his necklace nor his pants that Steve's attention was fixated on. It was the demonic, nightmare-inducing mask plastered on its face, the twisted devil that sent shivers down Steve's spine. Dark, soulless eyes peered out from behind the mask as it stepped towards its prey, it's footsteps silent as the grave.

"WAIT!" Steve cried. As if this were the magic word, Kharv halted. "I'm safe, see?" Steve pointed at the Key of Life etched on the wall, his voice becoming more and more desperate. "I'm safe, the rules said so!"

Kharv stood still, as if thinking, before reaching towards the wall and tracing the Key of Life with one finger. Steve allowed himself a shred of hope, but that hope quickly turned to confusion as Kharv raised his other hand and wiped away the symbol.

"Wait, what?" Steve cried as this room became like most of the others. "I don't understand! I DON'T UNDERSTAND!"

Then it hit him. The note, one of the final lines.

_The rules can change at any given moment_.

"No… No, NO!" Steve screamed out in terror as Kharv raised a hand. "NO!"

And at the day's end, Steve simply became another statistic.

* * *

Ooooh yes. Hope you enjoyed that. Again, if I got your OC wrong, feel free to inform me. If I got your OC right, feel free to hi-5 me. And for those that don't know, there's a poll on my profile. Feel free to do that too.

If all goes well, Bloody Vengeance should be updated within a week, and DJ: Origins shortly after.

Now, this is the proper place for it, not on chapter 2. Any OCS submitted FROM THIS POINT ON, will be reduced to redshirt status, save for several who will have important parts in the near future (yes, I'm referring to you, Evil13Angel.). All OCs and Canon characters featured in this chapter and the previous one will be the 'main characters,' but that won't stop them from dying, if you were wondering.

Hope that clears everything up. Any other comments or queries, feel free to ask/say in the review.

~ DJ.


	4. Holy Christ, an update?

From this point on, all 'bad side'-centric scenes will be presented in italic so as not to confuse readers, unless it's like a newspaper or internet report.

I dedicate this chapter to the person who inspired me to continue this little gem. He's changed his name several times, but that doesn't make me any less thankful of him. Thank you, Ghost2291 (that's your name now, right?).

* * *

Mole paced back and forth in an important-looking office, irritation etched on his face. Beside him, Flippy stood by awkwardly, watching the blind man pace back and forth. Mole had been waiting not-so patiently for the team to return, and his divine lack of patience was certainly showing.

"Where the hell are they? I bet Niki got them lost again. She's already done it twice this year, I swear. Last time she flew to Paris for some reason…"

Flippy shuffled his feet awkwardly.

Mole continued his rant, seemingly unaware of Flippy's increasing awkwardness. Indeed, Mole's tangent was interrupted only when someone knocked on the door and entered. She was an albino-ish wolf, with starkingly white fur and long black hair that extended to about her waist. Wearing grey camo shirt & skirt, she bounded towards Mole with a spring in her step that was rare in her line of work, some shiny dogtags bouncing against her chest. "Mole! There you are, I've been looking for you for some time now." She said upon reaching the two.

"Alexis!" Mole stopped his pacing and looked in the general direction of the new arrival. "I didn't even know if you were still in the state."

"I wasn't. Anyway, I think I've got a lead for you." She said, before taking notice of Flippy standing by the sidelines. "Who's this?"

"Oh, that's Flippy. I feel he'll be a welcome addition to our team. Now what's this lead of yours?"

Alexis glanced at Flippy, before deciding that he looked trustworthy and told the story: "Alright, remember when you sent me to Las Vegas last week to follow up a new lead?"

"Yeah."

"Well, for the first few days the lead did nothing. I thought it was a dead end, but on the fifth day the lead suddenly drove to a small café on the outskirts of Vegas. Posing as I lost tourist, I asked the bartender for directions, and managed to overhead the lead talking to someone else. I didn't get a good look at this other person, but at least twice I heard the lead say the words 'Enemy Operatives.' I had to leave almost immediately after, but I did catch the lead organize another meeting at the same place on 3pm, in three days."

Mole nodded slowly, mentally processing this new information and weighing it up against other potential leads. "I see… Thank you, Lex, you've been very helpful."

Alexis smiled warmly. She turned to leave, flashing Flippy a glance, then paused. Her eyes were drawn to Flippy's dogtags, lying idly on his chest. "Army, Navy, or Air Force?" She asked, looking back into Flippy's eyes.

"Army."

Alexis nodded then pointed to the tags. "May I?"

Flippy nodded, and handed his dogtags to her. She studied them for a short moment, mouthing the words inscribed on them silently, before passing them back to Flippy. "Sergeant Fernando Henderfeild, call-sign Flippy, of the US Army."

"That's right. Can I see yours?" Flippy asked, putting his dogtags back around his neck. Alexis obliged, handing hers over with a tiny bit of reluctance. Flippy glanced at the etching in the tags and silently read it.

All it said was 'ALEXIS' and the symbol of the Phoenix Clan.

Flippy absent-mindedly handed the tags back to Alexis, noting that the tags left cuts on Alexis's chest, though she didn't seem to notice.

Another knock on the door, and this time a gray, scruffy dog, clad in black clothing, poked his head in. "Mole? I think you'd better see this." Pike said, a tinge of worry in his voice.

* * *

_Zeke counted through the stack of 20$ bills slowly and tantalizingly, placing each bill, one after the other, on a wheeled gurney as the person in front of him shivered. "I gotta say, Truffles. This has gotta be a new low. Selling your team out just for 10 grand? Disappointed, Truffles."_

_Truffles shifted awkwardly in his seat, and chuckled nervously. "Ha, yeah… About that."_

_Zeke stopped counting the money momentarily, and glanced at Truffles suspiciously._

"_See, Zeke… I gave you some very good, very valuable information that was most definitely worth your time… So I was thinking, uh… Maybe was could raised the payment just a bit. Say, another ten thousand dollars? I know you got the money, you're plain stinking rich, so this won't have that much of an impact on your overall wealth…" Truffles slowly trailed off as Zeke stared at him unblinkingly._

_Zeke considered this for a moment. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he finally nodded. "I don't see why not." He said, indicating behind the traitorous pig._

_Truffles grinned, relieved, and turned around-_

_BLAM!_

_A single gunshot from a pistol in Longhorn's grip shot straight though Truffle's head, making a small, neat, circular hole in the traitorous pig's skull. Truffle's body fell backwards, landing on the wheeled table and sending it rolling backwards for a few inches. Truffles laid still, blood slowly spreading on the gurney and the discarded notes, that greedy grin of his still etched on his face even after death._

_Longhorn grinned, blew on the smoking pistol like a Western bandit, and glanced at his superior._

_Now half covered in blood and bits of brain matter, Zeke glared at Longhorn, before breaking into a grin. "Longhorn… Expect a few extra dollars in your paycheck." He said, shaking his head playfully. Then, glancing at Truffle's corpse, the grin faded into a frown. "Greedy bastard. Selling his team out for a few measly grand. We did a good thing tonight, Long. If he betrayed them just for 20 grand, imagine how much he'd sell out us for. You can't trust a traitor, Longhorn. No matter what side they come from, you just can't trust them."_

"_That's right, sir." Longhorn nodded, then pointed at the side of Zeke's face. "You got a bit of Truffles right there."_

_Zeke casually picked the small string of flesh from his cheek, studied it for a moment, then popped it into his mouth like a string noodle. "Needs more salt."_

"… _Noted, sir." Longhorn replied, somewhat awkwardly. "What do you want me to do with the body?"_

"_Hmmm… Target practice?"_

_Longhorn nodded. "On it, sir." He replied, grabbing the handles of the gurney and beginning to push it away. "You might wanna take a shower or something, sir." He added._

"_Well, I was going to walk around like this for the rest of the day, but your idea seems better." Zeke replied, and Longhorn wasn't sure if he was being serious or sarcastic. So he simply nodded and pushed the gurney out the large double doors._

* * *

"Whatever it is, I'm sure we can power through it." Mole waved away Pike's worries with an indifferent wave. "We've got the backing of the next high-ranking senator, remember? We've got all aces in our pockets, Pike."

"Yeah… About that." Pike said, handing a printed document to Flippy. "The supposed senator? The guy who's responsible for our funding? He'd kind of, well… Dead."

"WHAT?" Mole shouted, shocked. Pike made to hand the newspaper to Mole, but upon remembering that he was, you know, blind and stuff, instead thrust it to Flippy. Flippy glanced at the headline and raised his eyebrows.

'_**Breaking news: Possible Senator Lyle Jazed killed in fiery plane crash!**_

_In a horrific twist to the US senator debate, heavy candidate Lyle Jazed was killed when his luxurious private jet inexplicably lost power over the Californian countryside, crashing to the ground and bursting into flames. Firefighters and ambulances were quick to the scene, but of all eighteen passengers on board, none have survived. Jazed, a heavy political candidate rumored to be a runner in the next US senator election, was known for the lavish lifestyle and his seemingly-endless care for children across the country.  
However, minutes after his death, rumors surfaced about Lyle Jazed's connection with illegal drug industries, with our source claiming that Mr. Jazed himself was responsible for at least '40% of Heroin being imported into the United States, along with a large slice of the Cocaine market.' These rumors are being investigated at the time, but so far they prove to be true. Also accusations with his influence with several 'secret services' are being investigated.  
Lyle Jazed was born in Manchester, England in 1968 as Leslie Jazed, son of a rich business tycoon. Lyle shared his father's knowledge of business transactions, and took over the business after his father had a fatal heart attack in 1989. He was married to a miss Mary Robin in 1984, and years later, in 1990, Lyle & Mary successfully had a son of their own, a Desmond Jazed, although Mary died during the birthing process. Her death crushed Lyle, and soon afterwards his business fell. With what money he had left, Lyle and his son travelled to America, and the rest, as they say, is history.  
Coroners indicate that Lyle Jazed's death was accidental, although people are quick to disagree, stating that a plane doesn't just burst into flames mid-air for no reason. Officers, however, wish to alert everyone that there was no foul play, and there is nothing to fear. One officer quoted: "Accident and coincidence. Nothing more. It's just some conspiracy theorists trying to stir up the people of America. I repeat: There is no conspiracy, there are no terrorists, everyone is safe."  
An official inquiry is being held to determine the exact cause of Lyle Jazed's jet's accident.  
Lyle Jazed was 42 years old at the time of his death. It is under debate whether he will be shipped back to Manchester, England to be buried, or be buried in Washington, DC. When asked to give a comment, Lyle's biological son Desmond stated that he will take over Lyle's position in the senator run, as it was what he would have wanted.'_

"Fuck fuck, fucking FUCK!" Mole swore loudly as Pike told him the news. "It could not have come at a worse time!"

"This guy was the guy paying for your stuff?" Flippy asked, passing the newspaper back to Pike. "He struck me as a real asshole."

"Oh, he was." Mole nodded. "Arrogant, demeaning, sack of shit, but he knew where the business opportunities lay. I think he was in the war with us, too."

"What do we do about the budget, sir?" Pike questioned.

"The paper said he had a biological son, right?" Flippy said, an idea forming. "Desmond, right? Following Mr. Jazed's death, all his belongings would be passed onto Desmond, including the money."

"Yeah, what's your point?"

"Maybe we could ask this Desmond guy. If he's anything like his father, he'll approve and continue the funding."

"That's… That's actually a good idea." Pike admitted, and glanced at Mole. "What you think, sir? Worth going after?"

"It's the only legal option I see." Mole sighed. "Alright, give it a day or two for him to settle down, and we'll arrange a meeting with him somehow."

"Hey, the helicopter's nearly here." Pike noticed, pointing. Flippy followed his finger out the window, the sight of two helicopters far off in the distance, catching his attention. "Took their time."

* * *

"_Sooo… What kinda stuff do you do around here?" The hybrid abomination, CrayZee, asked as she around the room at all the crazy scientist shit._

"_If you must know, a good deal of it is super-weapon stuff." Jay replied in annoyance. Tasked with the quest of 'keeping it under control' was turning out to be harder than expected. 'It' being CrayZee, of course. "Here, look at this." He turned his back to grab a potion, and as if on cue a crashing sound was heard. He sighed in frustration, and glanced back._

"_Someone broke your thingy." CrayZee said, although it was pretty clear she herself had smashed it, whether intentionally or not. "Also, what was the thingy for?"_

_Jay put a hand to his face. "Alright, clearly we need some ground rules." He noted. "Rule number one: DON'T. TOUCH. ANYTHING."_

"_Can I touch the floor?" CrayZee asked, her tone making it unclear whether she was joking or not._

"… _Yes, you may touch the floor."_

"_Can I touch the air?"_

"_Yes, you may touch the air."_

"_Can I touch this?"_

"_Yes, you may-" Then Jay saw what CrayZee was touching, and promptly screamed. "NO, NO YOU MAY NOT TOUCH THAT!" He ripped the thing away from CrayZee's grip, holding it away from her carefully. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THIS WEAPON WOULD DO TO US?"_

_In response, CrayZee spat in Jay's face, before laughing hysterically. Jay paused, wiped the spit away from his face, and held up two fingers. "Rule number two: NEVER DO THAT AGAIN."_

_There was a short pause._

_Then CrayZee spat in his face once more._

* * *

The helicopters slowly descended, before landing in the landing zone and powering down. As the crew descended from the whirlybirds, chatting amongst themselves, Niki & Sam exited their respective choppers, arguing over who won their little game.

"I landed first, so I win!"

"Nu-uh, I got all my passengers out first, so I win!"

This would've continued for quite some time, before both of them noticed Mole staring at them with cold, empty, unseeing eyes. Creeping them the fuck out. "Heyyy… Mole." Niki hesitantly said. "I know we're kinda late, but we have a very good reason."

"And that reason is…?"

"Well, they had a REALLY good sale going on at Best & Less, so-"

A glare from the blind mole killed that reply before it finished.

"Sorry, boss." The two pilots said in unison. "Won't happen again."

"I'm sure it won't." Mole deadpanned, before shaking his head. "Tell everyone to join me in the briefing room in fifteen minutes."

Niki and Sam saluted.

* * *

_With one well-placed shot, Truffle's head exploded into many, many pieces, splattering the ground and wall with more blood and brain matter._

"_Whoo, bullseye!" Scourge cheered, taking several bows to nobody in particular. "Damn, I'm awesome."_

_Beside him, Disco Bear sat unimpressed. "Yeah, yeah. Budge over, Scourge. Let a real pro show you how it's done."_

"_Go on, then." Scourge said, stepping aside. "Show me what you got, fatty."_

"_I am rubber, you are glue. Bounces off me and sticks to you."_

"_I bet pretty much everything bounces off you."_

_Disco scowled, and grabbed the basic rifle from Scourge's hands, and aimed at what was left of Truffle's body. "Watch and learn, kid." He said, and took aim._

"_Hey, have you two seen Shifty anywhere?"_

_Disco glanced at the new voice, and grinned. "Welll, hell Petunia. Looking fine as usual. How about you and me-"_

"_Not in a million years, Disco." Petunia interrupted, rolling her eyes._

"_So there IS a time frame!" Disco exclaimed, his eyes widening._

"_I think I saw him go round the back of the armory." Scourge said, pointing at said armory._

"_Thanks, Scourge." Petunia nodded, faced the armory, and began walking away. Disco watched her go from behind, his eyes focusing on her hips and buttocks, grinning pervertedly._

_The rifle fired unexpectedly, Disco too distracted by Petunia's behind to notice his finger curling around the trigger. The bullet sailed past Truffles, even missing the wall completely, and struck Handy in the head. Luckily he was wearing his construction worker's cap._

"_Congratulations, Disco." Scourge stated. "You missed."_

_Shifty's eyes scanned the photograph in his hands, the brim of his dark green fedora serving well to block out enough sunlight so as not to clash with the precious picture. He gazed into the photo with dark, unblinking eyes, more or less dead to the world around him._

_Petunia knew what the photo was, knew what his brother meant to him. She silently stepped towards the depressed raccoon, sliding down to sit next to him. He didn't even show any signs of noticing her._

"_Nice day, isn't it?" She asked. Shifty blinked, glanced at the smiling blue skunk, and hid the photo._

"_What do you want, Petunia?" He asked, no trace of emotion in his voice._

"_I want to see how you're doing." Petunia said, rubbing a hand on Shifty's shoulder. "I know things must be very hard for you, an-"_

"_I'm fine, Petunia." Shifty replied, but Petunia could tell from his tone of voice that the raccoon was far from fine._

"_Shifty-"_

"_I said I'm fine." Shifty forcefully said, yanking his arm from Petunia's grasp. He glared at Petunia once, before quickly getting to his feet and walking away._

* * *

"Sooo… Anyone got any idea what this meeting's supposed to be about?" Mac asked, glancing around the room at his colleagues. His question was met with shrugs and blank looks all around.

"I'll tell you why he's called this meeting." Charlie Graves spoke up, his excessively-paranoia eyes scanning the room, settling on each occupant for but a second before moving on to another. "It's cos we've got a mole in our midst!"

"My god… He's right!" Lumpy cried, punching the table with a fist, and promptly grimacing in pain. "Guys, I don't know how to tell you this… But I think that Mole might, MIGHT… be a mole!"

There was a short silence, broken only by the sound of many, many facepalms.

Pain slapped Lumpy around the back of the head once. "Lumpy, please. For the love of all that is good in the world, stop breathing."

"Lumpy being Lumpy aside, does anyone have any idea what this is about?" Maria asked, bringing the group back to the original topic.

"It's about a lot of things." Everyone snapped to the new voice, instantly saluting despite Mole being unable to see this. "Sit down, there's some things I need to discuss." Mole sat down at the head of the table, Pike standing behind and to the left of him, while Flippy waited awkwardly to the right. "First and foremost, when you go out training, could someone at least have the common sense to tell me? Jesus."

"We left a note with Sniffles." Midnight spoke up with her heavy southern accent. "Don't blame us if he couldn't find the balls to give it to ya."

"Regardless. Anyway, there's something more… important to discuss. You might not know this, but your training and weapons and stuff costs a lot of money. A good portion of that money comes from the private backing of a certain senator."

"That's right, Lyle Jazed, wasn't it? The definition of the word 'prick'?" Kurt said, stroking his chin in thought.

"That's the one." Mole nodded his head. "Earlier today he was killed when his private jet burst into flames mid air."

There was a short silence.

"That would suck." Iris said. "Any survivors?"

"None."

"Damn. That does suck."

"With Mr. Jazed dead, so goes our funding. Unless we can convince someone else to back us, financially, while still having enough pull in the government to keep us under the radar, then we're finished." Mole sighed, and ran a hand across his forehead. "The next few days are going to be very… stressful."

"I don't like the sound of that." Frost frowned.

"In other news, one of our agents have found a possible lead in Las Vegas, Nevada. This could be make or break time for us, so those of you who go to Vegas to follow up the lead, for fuck's sake, be careful. Additionally, this is Flippy." Mole pointed to Pike. Pike quickly guided Mole's outstretched arm so that it was now instead pointed at the army-clad bear.

"Uh… Hello." Flippy waved awkwardly, feeling everyone's eyes on him.

"Me and Flippy were in the army together, and back then he was the best leader I've ever seen. He has agreed to help us out, in terms of guiding and leadership and stuff like that. Also he's got a split personality that is psychotically insane and may attempt to brutally kill you and all you knw in the most creative ways imaginable, so try not to piss him off."

And with that note, Flippy facepalmed.

* * *

Anyone that didn't appear in this chapter WILL appear in the next, so don't cry and throw a tantrum just because your OC didn't have a line.

Thanks for waiting so much, thanks for reviewing, etc, etc. Yes, it was a short chapter, but better than nothing, right?


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